CHAPTER TWELVE Talia Talia didn’t remember falling asleep. One moment she was curled up on the couch with the paperback still open in her lap, and the next she was blinking into the soft grey light of early morning, her neck aching from the awkward angle. Her apartment was silent except for the occasional groan of the old plumbing and the muted buzz of life outside her window. She yawned, stretching her limbs carefully, then winced as her phone lit up. Six missed messages. Two from Amara. One from her supervisor. And three from an unknown number. She sat up straighter, heart tripping in her chest. She opened Amara's first. Amara: Book club at my place tonight. Don’t flake. Amara: Also, are you okay? You seemed off yesterday. Talia chewed her bottom lip and ignored the message from work. She scrolled to the unknown sender. Unknown: Did you sleep well? Unknown: You shouldn’t ignore what you feel. Unknown: I’m closer than you think. Her breath left her in a sharp exhale. She d
CHAPTER THIRTEEN Ronan The woods were too quiet. Ronan moved like a shadow between the trees, each step precise, silent. The usual sounds of nocturnal life were absent—no owls calling, no rustle of small prey in the underbrush. Just a thick, unnatural stillness that clung to everything. He sniffed the air. Something was wrong. This part of Puya Ridge was protected by old pack wards—steeped in tradition, in blood and bond. Nothing crossed into Thorne territory without him knowing. And yet, tonight, the wards had pulsed like a struck nerve. Faint, but undeniable. A vibration against his spine that had drawn him from his bed into the darkness. Someone—or something—had breached the perimeter. He came to a stop near the edge of the ridge, where the land fell into a steep slope of jagged rock and wild briars. The moon cut a silver path across the trees, but even its light felt weaker tonight, like it was being swallowed by the dark. Then he saw it. Scorch marks in the grass. A sce
CHAPTER ONETalia Elowen hated mornings.Not because she wasn’t a morning person—she was, begrudgingly. She got up before her alarm, drank her coffee black, and walked to work like the world wasn’t slowly bleeding her dry. No, what she hated was the way the world insisted on shoving itself into her peace before she had a chance to armor herself.By 8:47 a.m., the office was already a warzone of ringing phones, passive-aggressive emails, and half-hearted small talk. The fluorescent lighting buzzed faintly overhead like a nervous tic. The building was old, the kind of beige-and-bland structure that seemed designed to kill ambition.Talia didn’t mind. It was the perfect place to be invisible.Her desk sat neatly at the center of the admin floor—a sea of cubicles and chaos surrounding her like noise she’d long learned to tune out. Her inbox was already stacked with tasks, approvals, and calendar requests that made other people twitchy. Not her. She found comfort in the order of it all. Pr
CHAPTER TWOPuya Ridge Book Nook – Thursday, 7:12 p.m.Talia pressed her finger into the crease of her worn paperback, eyes skimming a familiar paragraph even though she wasn’t really reading anymore.Around her, the book club hummed with soft chatter and the comforting clink of mugs. In the corner of the cozy bookstore café, surrounded by the scent of cinnamon tea and old paper, she should have felt at peace. She usually did. The lighting was warm, the chairs mismatched and cozy, and the shelves overflowed with books—her sanctuary since she was a teenager.But tonight, something in her wouldn’t settle.“Tell me you’re not rereading that scene again,” Harper murmured beside her, nudging her elbow.Caught, Talia glanced down at her book. “Maybe.”Harper smirked, sipping from her mug. “You always go soft for the tortured antihero types.”Talia arched a brow. “I like complexity.”“You like emotionally unavailable men with violent pasts and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass.”Talia huff
CHAPTER THREERonanThe first time Ronan felt her presence, he was over a hundred miles away.It came as a shift in the air—sharp, sweet, and wrong. A scent threaded through the wind, whispering through his senses like a secret meant only for him.It shouldn't have been possible.He’d trained his mind and body to resist everything. Hunger. Attachment. Even fate. Especially fate.But her scent cleaved through him like lightning, and with it came something more dangerous than curiosity.Recognition.He’d been standing in the middle of a negotiation with the Westborne pack when it hit him—so hard he’d staggered a step backward. Everyone noticed. No one questioned it.They wouldn’t dare.He dismissed the meeting early and drove. Didn’t tell his Beta where he was going. Didn’t know himself.But the pull was relentless.And then he saw her.In the grocery store of all places, tucked between shelves of canned soup and herbal tea, frowning softly as she read the back of a label. Mundane. Ordi
CHAPTER FOURTaliaThe bookstore should have been a sanctuary.It was where she went when the world felt too loud—where stories soothed the static in her chest. But tonight, even the scent of old paper and coffee couldn’t calm the storm inside her.She hadn’t been able to focus all day. Her skin prickled like something was watching her. Every shadow seemed deeper. Every glance over her shoulder sharper.And then there were the dreams.They'd started after she met him. That man. Ronan.She hadn’t seen him since the strange message at the café—the one that had chilled her to the bone.“I’m not here to hurt you. But you need to stay out of the woods.”She didn’t even remember telling him her name.And yet something in his voice—deep and graveled, laced with unspoken things—had left her shaken for days.She stared at the book in her hands and realized she hadn’t read a single sentence. Her best friend, Lani, sat across from her at their usual table, already halfway through the new fantasy
CHAPTER FIVE Ronan She was waking up. Ronan felt it like a current in his blood, a subtle shift in the air that told him Talia Elowen was no longer just dreaming—she was remembering. Sensing. Reacting. He leaned against the edge of the stone railing on the upper balcony of the Thorne estate, the sprawling woods of Puya Ridge stretching into the distance, blanketed in dawn mist. From here, he could see the edges of town, smell the sleepy stir of its human occupants. But there was only one scent he cared about lately. Her. Talia’s scent lingered in his mind like a splinter he couldn’t pull out. Clean linen. Jasmine. A hint of something sweeter beneath it, something elusive. Not perfume—her. And she was pulling him in. He hated that. He clenched his jaw as the ache in his chest pulsed again—low and sharp. The bond wasn’t just forming—it was fusing. And he didn’t want it. He hadn’t asked for this. But she had triggered it. Not by choice—no, this wasn’t her fault. This was hers
CHAPTER SIX Talia Something was wrong with her. Talia stood at the mirror, hands pressed against the cool edge of her bathroom sink, studying her reflection like it held answers. She didn’t recognize the person staring back—not completely. Her eyes were tired. Not from lack of sleep, but from the weight of confusion. Restless nights. Dreams that clung to her skin like silk threads, impossible to shake. She saw him again last night. Ronan. Not just in the usual fleeting way—this dream had been different. His hands were on her waist. His mouth near her throat. The air between them so thick with need she could barely breathe. She could still hear the rasp of his voice, the way it curled around her name like a promise and a warning all at once. It had felt… real. Too real. She touched her neck. No marks, of course. No logical reason to believe anything she saw in those half-lit moments was anything more than a dream. But her body didn’t care about logic. It remembered. Worse, it
CHAPTER THIRTEEN Ronan The woods were too quiet. Ronan moved like a shadow between the trees, each step precise, silent. The usual sounds of nocturnal life were absent—no owls calling, no rustle of small prey in the underbrush. Just a thick, unnatural stillness that clung to everything. He sniffed the air. Something was wrong. This part of Puya Ridge was protected by old pack wards—steeped in tradition, in blood and bond. Nothing crossed into Thorne territory without him knowing. And yet, tonight, the wards had pulsed like a struck nerve. Faint, but undeniable. A vibration against his spine that had drawn him from his bed into the darkness. Someone—or something—had breached the perimeter. He came to a stop near the edge of the ridge, where the land fell into a steep slope of jagged rock and wild briars. The moon cut a silver path across the trees, but even its light felt weaker tonight, like it was being swallowed by the dark. Then he saw it. Scorch marks in the grass. A sce
CHAPTER TWELVE Talia Talia didn’t remember falling asleep. One moment she was curled up on the couch with the paperback still open in her lap, and the next she was blinking into the soft grey light of early morning, her neck aching from the awkward angle. Her apartment was silent except for the occasional groan of the old plumbing and the muted buzz of life outside her window. She yawned, stretching her limbs carefully, then winced as her phone lit up. Six missed messages. Two from Amara. One from her supervisor. And three from an unknown number. She sat up straighter, heart tripping in her chest. She opened Amara's first. Amara: Book club at my place tonight. Don’t flake. Amara: Also, are you okay? You seemed off yesterday. Talia chewed her bottom lip and ignored the message from work. She scrolled to the unknown sender. Unknown: Did you sleep well? Unknown: You shouldn’t ignore what you feel. Unknown: I’m closer than you think. Her breath left her in a sharp exhale. She d
CHAPTER ELEVEN Ronan Ronan paced the confines of his office, the weight of the night pressing heavily on his shoulders. The packhouse was quiet, most of his wolves asleep, lulled by the false peace that came with darkness. But Ronan couldn’t rest. Not when everything inside him thrummed with restless energy, sharpened by the memory of her. Talia. He’d stayed too long tonight, hidden across the street from her apartment like a fucking stalker. Watching her. Protecting her. That’s what he told himself anyway. But the truth was more dangerous. He didn’t want to protect her. He wanted to claim her. Ronan’s fists curled at his sides. The wolf within him stirred, awake and prowling just under his skin, a low growl vibrating through his chest. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t right. His wolf was disciplined. Trained. He had fought wars for control over it. And yet now, one look from her — one goddamn heartbeat — and the beast inside him had nearly broken free. He slammed his hands down
CHAPTER TEN Talia Talia couldn’t sleep. She’d tried—twice. First, with the TV humming low in the background. Then, with a podcast about guided meditation, which only made her more aware of every creak in the walls and the hush between city sounds. Her apartment, normally her sanctuary, felt off tonight. Like the shadows were holding their breath. She sat on the edge of her bed, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the pale blue light leaking through her curtains. The text message played on a loop in her mind. She’d deleted it, hoping that would lessen its grip on her thoughts, but the words lingered: You should be more careful. Some things notice when you look back. Had she imagined him? Had the man outside the café even been real? And if he was—who the hell was he? A tap sounded on the window. Talia jolted upright, heart in her throat. Silence. She crept to the window and peeled the curtain back just enough to peek through. Nothing. The street below was quiet. No figure
CHAPTER NINE Talia Talia had never seen her best friend look that smug—and that was saying something. Amara practically skipped down the sidewalk beside her, arms swinging like they weren’t on their third lap around the block trying to “walk off the chaos” of what had just happened. Talia’s heart was still racing, her thoughts tangled in a looping mess of piercing eyes and the way her skin had prickled with awareness from across the café window. She’d seen him. The man in the coat. Watching. And for a split second, she could’ve sworn he saw her too. “You okay?” Amara asked, tone a little too innocent for someone who’d spent the last ten minutes not-so-subtly pushing for details. “You’ve been quiet since we left the café.” “I’m fine.” “You sure?” Talia side-eyed her. “Yes, Amara. I’m sure.” Amara grinned. “Because you looked like you saw a ghost in there. Or a hot vampire.” Talia groaned. “You’re ridiculous.” “I’m observant.” “You’re nosy.” “And loyal, thank you very mu
CHAPTER EIGHT Talia There was something oddly comforting about the produce section. Maybe it was the bright lights or the way everything had its place—tomatoes stacked like obedient little soldiers, greens misted and perky in their bins. It felt orderly. Predictable. A quiet moment in a day that had been anything but. Talia reached for a bundle of fresh basil, twisting the tie to check the leaves. It wasn’t the best quality, but it would do. Amara had sent her a new recipe, and for once, Talia didn’t want to go straight home and collapse into bed. Cooking kept her hands busy and her mind quiet. Both were necessary lately. Her phone buzzed in the cart. She glanced at the screen. Amara: Tell me you’re not making pasta again. Talia smirked and typed back: Don’t judge me, it’s therapeutic. She dropped the basil into her cart and turned the corner into the next aisle—and collided with something hard. Someone. Strong hands caught her before she could stumble back. “Easy.” The voi
CHAPTER SEVEN Ronan The wind carried her scent before he saw her. Subtle. Clean. Hints of citrus and something soft, like jasmine after a summer storm. Ronan was standing across from the café when the breeze stirred, brushing her presence against his senses like a whisper meant only for him. He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. He just watched. There she was—Talia—sitting in the window beside her friend, laughter caught on her lips, the sunlight kissing the edge of her cheek. Completely unaware of the way the world shifted around her. Of how the curse tethered him to her like a chain around his ribcage. He’d been careful up until now. Careful not to let himself be seen. Careful not to go near her when the moon swelled or his instincts howled. But today? Today felt like something inside him had frayed. The dreams were getting worse. The urges, too. She haunted his sleep like a ghost he’d once known. But she wasn’t a memory. She was real. And the bond—unnatural as it was—only grew mor
CHAPTER SIX Talia Something was wrong with her. Talia stood at the mirror, hands pressed against the cool edge of her bathroom sink, studying her reflection like it held answers. She didn’t recognize the person staring back—not completely. Her eyes were tired. Not from lack of sleep, but from the weight of confusion. Restless nights. Dreams that clung to her skin like silk threads, impossible to shake. She saw him again last night. Ronan. Not just in the usual fleeting way—this dream had been different. His hands were on her waist. His mouth near her throat. The air between them so thick with need she could barely breathe. She could still hear the rasp of his voice, the way it curled around her name like a promise and a warning all at once. It had felt… real. Too real. She touched her neck. No marks, of course. No logical reason to believe anything she saw in those half-lit moments was anything more than a dream. But her body didn’t care about logic. It remembered. Worse, it
CHAPTER FIVE Ronan She was waking up. Ronan felt it like a current in his blood, a subtle shift in the air that told him Talia Elowen was no longer just dreaming—she was remembering. Sensing. Reacting. He leaned against the edge of the stone railing on the upper balcony of the Thorne estate, the sprawling woods of Puya Ridge stretching into the distance, blanketed in dawn mist. From here, he could see the edges of town, smell the sleepy stir of its human occupants. But there was only one scent he cared about lately. Her. Talia’s scent lingered in his mind like a splinter he couldn’t pull out. Clean linen. Jasmine. A hint of something sweeter beneath it, something elusive. Not perfume—her. And she was pulling him in. He hated that. He clenched his jaw as the ache in his chest pulsed again—low and sharp. The bond wasn’t just forming—it was fusing. And he didn’t want it. He hadn’t asked for this. But she had triggered it. Not by choice—no, this wasn’t her fault. This was hers